The Missing Element
by AlexanderCahill
Summary: Sequoyah, inventor of the Cherokee writing system, has been hiding a secret for over 200 years- he is part of the Cahills. But when a Cahill uncovers that Sequoyah has hidden one of the clues, he grows determined to find it.


**_PART ONE:_**

_ Where is it_, I wonder to myself. I realized I was thinking not only about the exit, but the clue I was looking for.

I was in Nashville, Tennessee. I had orders to go (for being captured by the Lucian branch...not fun) to the State Capitol, a massive building located downtown.

After I found the exit, I took an easily visible yellow van to the State Capital. The roads winded down till the apex of what looked like a church loomed above us.

The State capital was a grey-brown color, with large columns up front and a large tower soaring above the skyline. There were several statues bordering the building itself.

I nodded thanks to the taxi driver, paid him, and pulled my backpack over my shoulder.

The hard part would've been to break into the capital. But, thanks to my name tag I.D. I had forged, I got in easily.

I spent hours looking around, admiring the architecture and the Greek-like feel to the place.

The library took my breath away.

"Whoa," I muttered to myself.

The library ceiling was high, and the architecture in the room vibrant with colors. There were grey-painted, metal steps that lead up to more books.

Paintings and statues were placed in spots; of some I recognized the Presidents Andrew Johnson, James K. Polk, and Andrew Jackson.

One of the bronze sculptures showed a man, with a turban-looking hat upon his head and a pipe sticking out of his mouth. He held a quill and a tablet, with strange inscriptions neatly placed on the piece. The plaque read _Sequoyah_.

I remembered now-Sequoyah was the inventor of the written form of Cherokee.

I looked around and had the feeling I was being watched. My instincts screamed _RUN_, but still I stayed. Out of my yellow backpack I pulled out a yellowed letter, its parchment folded because of my carelessness (a museum curator would hate me...). The letter read:

_Dear Sir, I would like to inform you that the clue is hidden securely within an important place. I would gladly tell you that nobody could ever find it without unearthing our secret, which nobody can. Thank you for trusting me._

_ Sincerely, _

_George Gist_

I was wondering who was George Gist. But for now, that could wait.

I turned my gaze back on the statue. I had a feeling there was more to Sequoyah than anybody had known.

Then it popped out at me. In the inscriptions was a roughly written symbol of a dragon - the symbol of my branch, the Ekaterina.

Sequoyah was a Cahill.

"Yes," I whispered, not talking to anyone but myself.

At least that's what I thought.

"What have we here, Alexander?" said a beautiful voice I hated. Or liked. I could never decide.

I turned around to see the wonderfully terrible face of Helena Troy.

Wasn't her name _ironic_? That was one reason I like her. Her beautiful face was as if Michelangelo had delicately sculpted. Her warm eyes looked like the color of chocolate, but they had a dangerously ambitious look.

I believed she was a Janus, though there was something in her personality that told me she wanted to be an Ekat...

like me.

I put my hands up in surrender. "You caught me,"

She snickered delightfully. "Don't try that on me,"

"Try what?" I said, preparing to launch.

She swiftly grabbed my wrist, and, in a blur of light, flipped me over.

She knew me more than I knew myself.

* * *

><p><em><strong>PART TWO:<strong>_

Instead of taking me back to Janus headquarters, she did the unexpected.

"What have you found out so far?" She asked, releasing her iron grip of my wrist. I rubbed it before replying.

"Sequoyah's a Cahill," I told her.

She nodded as if she knew already. "Yeah...an Ekat, I think. Also known as 'George Gist.'"

I was astonished. She might've been ahead of me.

"So," I said, breaking the silence, "what do we do now?"

She shrugged in a friendly way. As if we were talking like regular people.

I stared a long time at the dark bronze statue.

Then a thought struck me.

I pointed to my backpack. "Get out my laptop," I told Helena, who was looking out a curtained window.

She quickly gave it to me.

I opened it and searched on the internet, Cherokee letters

There was a bunch of useless facts.

And all I needed was a code.

Then it popped up on the screen.

I looked up at the tablet and began translating.

After about twenty minutes of translating, I finally read the words it read:

_The clue is hidden_

_where Cahills are forbidden_

_shipped from Britain_

_and donned with red ribbon._

The clue puzzled me.

Helena, after examining the riddle, said something I wasn't hoping she was going to say. "It could be them," she said, referring to a secret, anti-Cahill organization.

"Tuskegee," I said, my mind racing rapidly.

"What?" Helena ask, her eyes shining with curiosity.

"Tuskegee," I said, looking at her. "That's the village where Sequoyah was born."

She nodded. We both exited the building.

"Do you wanna like drive, or something?" I asked her, breaking the silence.

She shook her head. This continued on for five minutes, then something caught my eye.

"We're being followed," I told her without looking back.

* * *

><p><em><strong>PART THREE:<strong>_

She turned her head a little before I stopped her.

"Follow me," I said.

We turned right. There seemed to be people on that side, too. And they _all _looked brutish.

I quickly calculated the fact that over 20 people (23, to be exact) were on our trail.

I broke into a run, dashing for any hiding place I could find.

I turned around to make sure Helena was following. The others were following as well.

I rushed into an old alley, opening a ragged door that left a wide gap in the grey brick.

There was an old elevator, ragged and wooden and tied to a rope. I ushered Helena to get in. After that, I climbed in. We could barely fit.

A shoe knife instantly appeared out of my shoe, where I kicked the fragile rope. The knife cut through it like butter…

And we were falling through open air.

Helena was surprised, and instantly grabbed my hand. Her fingers were warm. After realizing she did this, she blushed and instantly took her hand out of mine.

Then that was the last thing I saw before my vision went blank.

I groaned after I woke up. My head throbbed as if a semi-truck had hit me. And I couldn't feel my leg.

"Ow…" I muttered. Then I realized my previous plan was not the smartest idea.

Helena (who appeared in great condition) rushed over to me.

"You're awake," she said, and for a second I thought she showed affection.

"I wish I wasn't," I replied. "My head and leg are killing me,"

Helena nodded. "When we fell, the elevator turned your way and you absorbed the impact. And I broke your leg,"

I ignored her. "How about those people?" I asked. "Any sign of them?"

She shook her head. "Haven't seen them since you saw them,"

I tried standing, but stumbled as my right leg burned with pain.

"We have to wait," Helena said after she helped me back down.

My vision was blurry, and I turned around. The place we were at were dimly lighted and the sound of water rushed by.

"Where are we?" I asked Helena.

"The sewers," she said. "That's where this thing lead to."

_That's probably the smell_, I thought.

"We need to get to Sequoyah's birthplace." I told Helena. "The others may have already found out,"

Helena nodded guiltily. "Yeah, about that…"

"About _what_?" I asked.

"I've already contacted the Janus. They've already sent two agents there,"


End file.
